Victims of Love
by I.M. Elizabeth
Summary: In the end they were both just victims of love  Mello/OC  *Angst* *Lemon*


_**A/N: **So I finally did it. Oh my gosh, this was so hard. I'd been dreading writing this scene, and I have to admit it was a really emotional write for me. Especially Mello's little confession. But, never fear, I'm still working on "Arrow" and "Dark Hour" so stay tuned. And trust me, Mello and Layla will find their way together in the end._

**Victims of Love**

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Death Note or any of its respective characters. However I do own Layla Levandi and the writing as seen here, please do not use them without my permission._

It had all started with a phone call, really.

Layla had been in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for Mello when his phone had rang. It was late, and Layla scowled at the sound of the noise. She had merely wanted a quiet evening with Mello, and those were hard to come by a lot of the time.

She continued stirring the milk and chocolate, watching the skin stick to the spoon. But, she was straining, listening carefully. It was almost second nature to listen in on Mello's conversations. She couldn't exactly help it, being nosy when it came to Mello was her specialty.

He answered the phone after a few minutes and almost instantly she could hear the annoyance in his voice.

"What is it now?" he said.

Layla sighed, it was probably Matt or some nameless one of his mafia cronies asking for direction and guidance, Mello was good at that, guiding people. Where they ended up, however could be questionable.

"I don't care. He's not my problem." she heard Mello say, his voice a little more relaxed.

Probably some dead guy with a grudge against Mello. Still though, she had to wonder, being in the mafia, why would they need to ask him about disposing bodies?

Shrugging, Layla reached into the cabinet and pulled out a large black mug to pour the hot chocolate into. Once the brown liquid simmered elegantly in the mug she began adding small shavings of chocolate to the drink, thick enough to not melt on contact.

He had gone quiet now, and Layla assumed that the phone had been hung up. But there was something about the silence, it seemed thick enough to cut and it made her stop in the doorway.

Then, she heard him sigh, so heavy that he almost sounded as he was holding back a sob. But, when he spoke, his voice was strong and calm.

"I guess I'll just have to do it then."

_Do what? _She wondered mildly, the glass mug beginning to burn her hand and she shifted her grip to the other hand.

Then she heard his cellphone close with a snap and Layla cursed when she heard him stand.

He wouldn't be pleased when he found her standing in the doorway. He absolutely hated her nosing in on anything he did and it was sure to start a fight. So much for a quiet evening at home. Layla braced herself when she heard his footsteps get closer, preparing the mental barrage of attacks she could throw at him.

When she felt his presence in front of her, she focused her eyes at his knees. Her shoulders tensed in wait for the string of insults and accusations.

But they never came.

When she dared enough to look at him, she was surprised to see him merely gazing at her, no hint of anger in his blue eyes.

He was just staring at her, his eyes unfathomably cloudy.

"Here," she said softly, pressing the drink into his hands.

He took a sip, still looking troubled.

"It is right, isn't it?" she asked.

He looked slightly confused, then stared down at the drink, "Oh, yes. Its perfect."

_Perfect?_ She blinked, nothing to Mello was perfect. Everything was decent, good enough, okay. Never was anything perfect for Mello. But still, Layla couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face.

She leaned up to on her tiptoes and kissed Mello's chin. He leaned down to capture her lips briefly in his own before breaking away and going to sit on the couch.

Layla followed him, laying her head contently on his leg. She was pleased that there wasn't a fight tonight, she hadn't really been up for it and he apparently wasn't either. He set down the hot cocoa on the table in front of him and sighed. Then, he picked up his worn bible from the coffee table and leafed through it before settling on a page and reading, his lips moving along in practiced russian.

His other hand was threaded in Layla's hair, stroking her scalp with his nimble fingers. The action lulled her into a warm cocoon of sleep, dreams of Mello's lips filling her head.

When Layla awoke again, her head was pressed against Mello's bare chest. Blinking blearily she realized that they were in the bed, and the thought of Mello carrying her to bed made her flush.

When she glanced upwards Mello appeared to be staring out of the bedroom window, a cigarette's bright head flickering above her face.

"Mello," she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep, "What s'matter?"

"Nothing," he said after a moment, and she could smell the scent of smoke suddenly fill the air. "Go back to sleep Kiska."

But now she was wide awake, and she rolled her body over so that she could face Mello easier.

He still had that troubled look on his face, so she teasingly plucked the cigarette from him and finished it off. He merely blinked at her and she frowned, putting the butt out in an ashtray beside the bed. "What is it?"

Inhaling sharply Mello spoke, "I need to go to Japan in the morning."

"Why?" Layla teased, "Has Matt asked for some crazy video game again?"

He shook his head, golden locks gleaming in the light of the window, "No. But, I want you to stay here okay? I-I want to know you'll be safe at home. Promise me you'll stay here."

The request was odd, and Layla couldn't help but feel a little uneasy, "You sure you don't need me there?" she offered.

"Promise." he said quietly, tilting his lips against her throat.

"Fine," she murmured, "Okay."

"Say it." he said softly, reminding her of when they would make promises as children. The two of them had always made the other speak the swear aloud, a sort of binding pinky promise.

"I won't go to Japan, Mello."

Then he flipped her over, kissing her firmly.

His hands found their way to her breasts in the dark and she let out a warm sigh. After a moment she realized he was still wearing his leather pants and she reached out to slip the little silver button through the finely sewn hole.

She slipped his leather pants halfway down his legs and he kicked them off the rest of the bed. They landed on the wooden floor with a feeble plop.

Mello began concentrating on removing Layla's shirt and bra, letting his hands slide ever so gently down her spine in a way that made her shiver. He unclasped the bra with expert fingers and slipped his head down to nip at the small peaks that had begun to form on her breasts.

After a moment, she reached down to fondle him, her fingers slipping over the silken skin of his sex.

"No," he purred, pushing her hand away, "Not yet."

Then, his hands found the buttons of Layla's own leather pants and he pulled them off gracefully, letting his fingers slip on the arc of her calf.

Surprisingly, Mello lifted his lips and placed soft generous kisses all the way up her thigh before delving his tongue inside of her.

Layla let out a strangled cry as his tongue worked against her throbbing sex, her hands going down to grab fistfuls of his golden hair.

She couldn't help it as she bucked mindlessly against him, moaning and sobbing out his name. When she felt herself begin to spill over the edge she stretched out her arms to tug at his shoulders. In a way that seemed strangely obedient, Mello rose slightly, kissing all along her stomach and in between her breasts.

Then his lips were achingly slow along her neck and jaw. Finally, he reached her lips, kissing her heatedly. Mello's hands slid along the edge of her waist and ribs and he pulled away from her slightly to part her legs.

He entered her swiftly and silently, his face tightening in pleasure. But, it was then that Layla realized that something was wrong.

_He didn't bother to get a condom, and Mello never forgets things like that...What's wrong with him?_ She wondered, her hands reaching up to pull him down to her again and biting out a soft moan when she felt him move.

He embraced her, practically clinging to her waist as he cried out her name, almost wantonly.

Layla's hands felt the jagged edges of Mello's scar against her fingers when she wrapped her arms around his back and she kissed his temple, crying out when he began thrusting slowly into her.

"Mello, are you alright?" she murmured, gasping slightly. "You're awfully needy tonight. More then I've ever seen you be."

He leaned up to caress her lips with his own again, a breathy, "I'm fine." against her skin.

She let out a heated groan when he hit a sensitive area inside of her and flushed at the sound.

It seemed this spurred him even faster, and he began bucking his hips against her own. Her heart was throbbing in her ears and she tightened her hold on him. She was achingly close now and Mello must have sensed it too, he reached down his hand to stroke at her most sensitive spot. The sudden jolt of pleasure sent her careening over the edge and cried out his name again.

He thrusted a few more times until pulling away and the sudden hot stickiness of his seed on her stomach and thighs.

She glanced up at Mello, his eyes glazed over with lust and something else, sadness maybe, she couldn't tell in the darkness.

Reaching out for his hands, Layla pulled him to her, cradling him against her.

Then, she felt something hot on her shoulders, hot and wet. Instinctively her fingers went to touch his face and he kissed the tips of her knuckles.

They stayed that way for several minutes until finally she could stand it no longer. "Mello," she murmured, "What's wrong?

There was no reply, and in the darkness she could tell he had fallen asleep, curled childishly against her body. She let out a tiny sigh and snuggled against him, falling asleep fast and dreamlessly.

"Layla."

Mello's voice awoke her, and when she peered through her eyelashes Mello was putting on his sunglasses in front of her. He peered over her and gave her an annoyed look.

"I'm about to leave," he said calmly, "Take a bath and get back in bed. We made quite a mess last night."

She recalled his neediness the night before and suddenly her heart jumped up in her chest. She didn't want him to go, and she scrambled up to a sitting position, clutching the blanket around her.

"N-now?" she whimpered.

Mello shrugged, "Yeah, I have to get going."

He stood to leave but she clutched at his hands, desperate to keep him a little while longer. "Kiss me, kiss me before you go."

Normally, Mello would have scoffed at her, patted her head and told her quite promptly that she was a moron. And in all truthfulness, that was what Layla wanted. She wanted some reassurance that he was okay.

Rolling his eyes, Mello put a gloved hand in his pocket and pulled out his red crucifix from his pocket, instinctively her eyes went to his neck and she saw that he was wearing the rosary she had painted for him several years ago one christmas. The black and silver beads gleamed uncharacteristically around his neck and she sighed when he placed the necklace over her head.

Then, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, his hands going down to fondle the cross that now lay around her neck.

"Why?" she mumbled as Mello pulled away.

He reached out to stroke her cheek, the leather cool against her skin.

"For when you feel alone."

He attempted to leave her side and again she clutched at his hands.

"Layla goddamn it. I have to go." he grumbled.

"I love you. Okay, Mello?" she said softly. "Please be careful."

Then she saw it again. That strange hint of sadness in his eyes as he backed away from her.

"Yeah." he said dismissively, "Whatever you say Kiska."

Layla did as she was told when she heard the door slam loudly. She got up and took a long shower washing away the remains of their sex. When she got out of the tub, she crawled back into the bed and turned on the small television that sat on her dresser. She flipped it absentmindedly to the news and fell asleep again, curled around the pillow.

The sound of 'Breaking News' music is what had woke her and she jumped, glaring at the television, a string of swears breaking from her lips. Then she stopped abruptly at the sight.

_That's Mello's car!_ She thought wildly her heart suddenly racing. _What the fuck is he doing?_

Layla listened intently to the story. Apparently someone had taken Kiomi Takada, the spokesperson for Kira hostage. Her hands clenched around the blanket as she watched Matt walk out of the car through the tiny air camera.

_You fool!_ She thought. _You should get back in the-_

Her thought wasn't finished as she watched the bullets suddenly fly through Matt's chest. Blood was everywhere and she gave out a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a gasp.

It would be just like Mello to act so rashly, just like Matt to follow him. Then her heart clenched painfully in her chest as the realization hit her.

_Mello knew he was going to die when he went to Japan._

She tried to push the thought away, no no. No way Mello could be that foolish, not her Mello. "Oh God, Mello." she whimpered, hugging herself against the headboard.

Then, her phone rang and she gasped, scrambling and sobbing for her cell phone on the bedside.

"H-H-Hello." her voice sounded crazed, half mad.

"Layla."

It was Mello, and nearly a thousand of emotions flooded through her chest. "Oh god Mello, Matt...he-he's..." she bit out.

"I know." His voice was so even, level, strong. "Listen to me. Listen to me, Kiska. When this is over, I want you to leave Los Angeles. I want you to go to England, back to the House. I wrote my bank numbers in the notepad on the dresser drawer. I transferred the account to your name. Buy a plane ticket and get out of LA. You hear me?"

"Yes."

It sounded like he was in a car, and her heart was pounding wildly, "Mello. Wh-Where are you?"

He sounded so calm, so relaxed, She heard him chuckle over the phone, "Don't worry about me. That's what got you in this mess in the first place. Worrying about me."

She couldn't help it then, and sobs erupted from her throat.

"Aw, don't start that." he said softly, but she could hear the emotion in his voice. "We'll meet again."

"I don't want to meet again, I want you here! I want you now. You're mine! No one else's. Fuck Kira, Mello, fuck being the best! You've always been the best! You knew it, and I knew it too."

Sobs were flying wildly from her throat, and she clutched at her cell phone. She wished more than anything he was there to hold on to her.

Mello clucked his tongue, but when he spoke there was so much emotion in his voice. "Layla, Kiska...I love you. So much. I know I didn't ever tell you. I know at times you wondered if I did, and I always have. Since I was fourteen years old. Every fight, every kiss, through scars and bullets, I've loved you." Then he was chuckling again, "There's a first time for everything right? I figured now was as good a time as any to tell you. I'm sorry I could never say it in person. Now, be a good girl and do as I told you, darling."

_Click!_

He had hung up. Layla sat there, frozen, floored. Unthinkingly she reached up to clutch at the rosary that hung around her neck.

_For when you feel alone._

"Please," she begged through her tears, "Let him come back to me. Somehow, somewhere, let him come back to me."

Mello stared at his phone with a little sigh.

His poor beloved Layla. It was close, he could feel it in his bones.

Gloved hands gently reached up to finger the cross she had made for him and he sighed saying russian Hail Mary's in his head.

"...at the hour of our death...Amen."

There it was, the pain. He'd had a feeling this would happen. Still though, he felt as if the pain was from his broken heart too.

Mello concentrated on Layla's face as his body slumped forward from the pain. _I promise. I'll find my way back to you. _

Her delicately painted cross flickered slightly in front of his eyes as everything faded to black.


End file.
